Arson
by Hayy6747
Summary: How do you mentor someone you know will die because of you? Katniss and Peeta have survived the 74th Hunger Games, but now they must find a way to survive mentoring tributes in the Quarter Quell.
1. Chapter 1: The Announcement

**Update: 1/11/16**

The announcement is tomorrow.

My heart nearly stops every time I think about it. I can't imagine what fresh horrors the Capitol will have in store for its new victims. I pray that the Quell isn't as bad the second Quarter Quell, but I know that the Capitol won't be able to resist any extreme extravagances for this special celebration.

I walk through Victor's Village trying not to think about the inevitable terror that Peeta, Haymitch, and I will have to face together. Eventually, I decide to walk to Peeta's house, thinking that being with him will calm me down.

After the Victory Tour, the frigid wind that had kept Peeta and I estranged had finally warmed. We're back to normal. Well, as normal as we can be. Peeta is back to being his old incredibly affectionate and kind self, and I'm finally able to speak to him. I've missed that.

As soon as I open the door, the heavenly scent of Peeta's bread caresses my nostrils, inviting me into the warm folds of his home.

"Peeta?" I call out. "Are you here?"

I hear him yell from the somewhere in his house, "Yes! I'm in the kitchen."

I walk to the kitchen where I am greeted by a smile from Peeta. He has one of those smiles that can make you smile back, even if you're not happy.

I smile at him and sit down at his table, looking around the kitchen that I've become so familiar with ever since coming home from the Tour. The walls are a beautiful, light green—almost mint, complementing all the white cabinetry.

Peeta sits down across from me and places a fresh loaf of bread in the center of the table.

"Want some?"

The bread smells irresistible, so I nod and take the slice he offers me. After a minute of chewing in silence, I look up at Peeta and wonder what could possibly be going through his head right now. How does he stay sane when the Quarter Quell announcement is tomorrow?

"Katniss?" He he whispers my name as soon as I open my mouth to say his.

"Yes?"

He asks the question that has been on my mind for months, but just out of reach to actually discuss:, "What do you think the Quell will be?"

"I have no idea, but I'm terrified."

He nods slowly in agreement. I can feel his fear. He's scared that we won't be able to save our tributes. I fear the same thing.

Peeta reaches over the table and places his hand over mine, sending chills up my spine. My cheeks redden at his touch.

I look up and see a tortured expression in Peeta's eyes. These tributes won't have the same privileges that Peeta and I had; both won't be able to survive. All I can think is watching child after child being speared like Rue or poisoned like Foxface or torn apart limb by limb like Cato.

I can't relive the Games, but I have to. _We_ have to. My chest aches at the thought.

Peeta, seeing the terrified expression on my face, squeezes my hand and says, with utmost compassion, "But at least we'll get through it together."

* * *

I stay at Peeta's house all night, knowing that I won't be able to sleep. The nightmares would be too bad. Every time I close my eyes, I see Rue and Glimmer and Marvel and Clove and Cato die in front of me.

We lay on the couch together, my head in his lap, talking about everything but the games the entire night. My unease finally leaves, replaced with content. Peeta and I have never spoken for this long, but I love it. It's nice to be able to talk with someone who completely understands everything without having to explicitly say it. He knows everything I'm feeling because he feels it too. The nightmares don't just affect me.

When the next morning finds us with sunlight shining through the windows, our fluttering eyes dream of a restful night's sleep that will probably never happen again. The Games have poisoned our restful nights. My unease returns.

Suddenly, I hear a knock at the door, and sit up quickly as if something might knock it down and kill us. Peeta seems to have no such thoughts because he gets up and calmly strides to the door.

He opens the door, and, to our surprise, there stands a sober Haymitch. With the announcement so close, I thought he'd be drowning his thoughts in alcohol, especially since it's a Quell.

"Do you guys know what time it is?" His voice is gruff, as if he just woke up.

Peeta glances at me and then back at Haymitch, "No, we kind of lost track of time."

Haymitch smirks and rolls his eyes, "Of course you did. Turn on the TV. The announcement will be on soon."

As Peeta goes to turn on the television, Haymitch plops down next to me on the couch and takes a flask out of his pocket. He gives me a knowing look as if I had done something I shouldn't have done last night.

"Have fun last night, sweetheart?"

Even though I didn't do anything that he's insinuating, I blush and grab the flask out of his hand and take a swig. The alcohol scorches my throat, making me gag. It's possibly the worst thing that I've ever tasted, but the burning wakes me up, if only briefly.

I hand Haymitch the flask as the Capitol emblem glows on the screen. Peeta comes to sit on the other side of me. I lean into him for support, and he wraps his arm around me.

Ceasar Flickerman's face graces Peeta's TV screen, and I feel Peeta tense beside me. I grab his hand and squeeze. We're going to need each other to get through this announcement.

Haymitch glances at me, but I ignore his piercing eyes.

"Welcome, welcome, one and all! The time has come for the seventy-fifth Hunger Games!" He chuckles heartily, and it grates on my nerves.

"While I truly cannot wait to start my coverage of thise stupendous event, we have a very exciting announcement from our very own President Snow. As you all know, this year is a special Hunger Games known as the Quarter Quell. This event only comes once every 25 years, so we know the Gamemakers have many special surprises in store for us viewers, and, especially, our tributes. So now, without further ado, President Snow!"

The screen changes to an image of President Snow in his office, surrounded by Peacekeepers. Snow manages to keep a straight face, but his eyes shine with malicious glee.

"Seventy-five years ago, the fiery destruction of rebellion overtook this country. However, when the rebellion was smothered, our marvelous Panem rose out of the ashes to become the powerful nation it is today. Every year, we celebrate the quelling of this rebellion with a nationwide event called the Hunger Games, and every 25 years, Panem enjoys a _special_ celebration. When the Hunger Games was founded, our forefathers composed hundreds of ideas for these games that were to be used every 25 years, an event called the Quarter Quell. In the twenty-fifth Hunger Games, the citizens of all the districts voted for their tributes to remind Panem that the responsibility of the rebellion resided on the Districts alone. In the fiftieth Hunger Games, double the amount of tributes were chosen to remind the Districts that for each Capitol citizen killed, two rebels died. Now, for the seventy-fifth Hunger Games…"

Snow pauses, and Peeta, Haymitch, and I hold our breaths. My hold on Peeta tightens, and I close my eyes, waiting for the inevitable.

President Snow opens a small, blood colored box, and plucks a yellow card from it. He holds the card in front of his face, and the corner of his lips raise slightly in a smile.

"Now, for the 75th Hunger Games, each living victor from the District will be responsible for reaping their own tributes to remind Panem that the strongest of us is still weaker than the might of the Capitol."

Snow looks into the camera one last time, grinning, before the Capitol seal illuminates the screen.

The room is silent for several minutes. I try to think of something, anything, to say, but my mind is spinning. Haymitch finally breaks the silence with a handful of curse words as he abruptly stands up and storms toward the door. He looks back at us, briefly, before slamming it.

I glance at Peeta, and his eyes are wide. He's terrified.

My mind is spinning, and I can barely process what has been spoken.

When Peeta opens his mouth to speak, his deep voice trembles. "We have to choose the tributes."

* * *

 **Hey y'all! Thanks for reading this chapter! I'm very excited about this story, and I plan on continuing it. If you have any suggestions or comments, please leave a review.**

 **I want to give a HUGE thanks to my Beta reader, Defying Expectations, for being an excellent editor and amazing person.**


	2. Chapter 2: The Realization

**Updated: 1/22**

* * *

My anger boils inside of me until I think I'm going to explode. My hands tremble and my eyes water. I stand up because I can't bear to stay still when I am so angry. I pace the length of Peeta's living room, feeling his eyes follow me. He tries to open his mouth to say something, but the announcement has rendered him speechless. Peeta's eyes are glistening, and he bows his head. I'm sure that he's wishing the same thing that I am—that this is all just a hellish nightmare.

Finally, Peeta stands up and grabs my hand, stopping my movements. I look down at his hand, and then up at his face. His cheeks are damp with tears.

"Katniss—"

I pull my hand away from his grasp and interrupt his words.

"Don't try to calm me down." I look away from him as I say this, not able to meet his intense gaze.

He chuckles softly. "Lucky for you, I wasn't planning on it. We need to discuss how we're going to get through this. Now is not the time for our emotions. Emotions aren't going to help us."

I finally turn towards him and stare into his blue eyes that remind me of springtime. I'm shocked that he's so calm, but Peeta's always been the voice of reason.

"How? How the hell are we supposed to get through this? We're sentencing kids to their death. We're no better than the damn Capitol."

Peeta seems to consider this for a moment. I don't think he really knows what to say.

I take his silence as an opportunity to speak again. "Peeta, we're leaving these kids at the mercy of the Capitol. They have to kill or be killed. Either way, they're murdering some part of themselves."

Peeta looks at me, his eyes compassionate, but a small grimace begins to form on his face. "Katniss, I understand. Of course I understand. But you need to protect your family. Any kind of dissent from you will give President Snow a reason to kill the people you love the most. We need to stick together on this."

Peeta Mellark, always the sensible one.

I stare at him for a while until I nod my head in agreement.

He gently grabs my hands and pulls me toward him. "We're going to be okay, Katniss. We'll get through this."

I don't reply to his statement because I don't know if I'm going to be able to get through it. If another person has to die because of me, I don't know if I'll ever be okay again.

I slowly sit up from the bed, completely exhausted. Peeta is softly snoring beside me. At least someone can sleep. I can't; my nightmares are relentless. As I swing my legs over the side of the bed, I feel Peeta rustle beside me. I was trying not to wake him.

"Katniss, are you okay?" His tired voice is filled with concern.

Even after just waking up, Peeta's first thoughts are about me. I don't deserve him.

"I'm fine, Peeta. Go back to sleep."

I stand up and walk over to the corner where I placed my hunting jacket and boots the night before. I need to go somewhere and clear my head. I walk across the room and turn the knob. It's cold in my hand, so different from the warmth of Peeta's bed. I turn my head and glance at Peeta, who is still staring at me with worried eyes.

"Really, I'm fine." I smile slightly, thinking that my smile will soothe him. "I'll be back soon. I need to take a walk."

Peeta nods and slowly lies back down; he isn't convinced. He stares at me for a moment later trying to discern why I would leave. His eyes are filled with a familiar unease, a look I grew accustomed to in our Games. He's scared that he's going to lose me.

I step into the hallway and move towards the stairs, leaving Peeta to his sleep.

The walk to the fence is nearly unbearable. The unforgivable chill in the air bites at my exposed skin, making it red. The clouds blanket the sky and turn the whole world gray and bleak. Yesterday's announcement left me feeling hopeless. How do I escape this? With the Games, Peeta and I found a loophole; we defeated the Capitol. But now, there's absolutely no way that all of our tributes will survive. Not only that, but we have to hand pick them. All of us. Haymitch included.

I stop where I am. I hadn't thought about that when the Quell was announced. We have to pick the tributes, yes. But there won't just be the standard twenty-four. There will be many more; the Games will be more of a bloodbath than usual. I take a second to calculate the possible amount of tributes. Who's the oldest victor? How many are living? I gasp when I figure it out.

Fifty-nine tributes. That's how many will be in the Games.

* * *

By the time I make it to the woods, I'm visibly shaking. I take out my bow from its hiding place and find solace by the small lake that I used to swim in as a child. I sit on a log by the water, and finally feel like I'm able to release everything that I have been feeling since Peeta and I got back from the Games. Tears flood from my eyes. I don't usually cry, but now I can't stop the endless stream of water from my eyes.

It was bad enough that I had to kill for the Capitol. Now, I have to subject other people to kill for the same cause—obedience. The tears fall off my face and onto my quivering hands as they rest in my lap. I am petrified by the decisions that I'm going to have to make.

I stay this way for what is probably hours, but feels like minutes. Within this time, Gale has somehow made his way to me. I don't even realize when his arms wrap around me. I'm sure he tries to say something to me several times, but I hear nothing.

I look at him and can say nothing. I can't even conjure the energy to say a feeble hello. Instead, I stare, and try to convey everything through my eyes. I try to communicate that I am sad and angry and frightened, but I don't think he understands. I'm sure all he sees are the eyes of the girl on fire who has lost her spark.

I lean away from his arms, putting space between us.

"I saw the announcement, Catnip. What are you going to do?"

I laugh darkly. "Who knows?"

Gale gives me a quizzical look.

"Gale, I don't know. I can't just disobey the Capitol."

"Why not? You did it during your Games, so we can do it now. We could leave. We could make it."

I snort. "Where would we go, Gale? We have nowhere to go. And what about our families?"

"We could take them with us. We'll find a place to go."

I stand up from the log, and look down at Gale. "Gale, you don't understand. I can't just leave. Even if we took our families with us, I would be endangering people if I left. The Capitol is watching me closely. Snow would either find me or kill them in hopes of finding me. Either way, I lose."

I start to walk away from the lake, fed up with Gale's childish ideas, when he grabs my shoulder from behind.

"You lose if you stay here, Katniss. Please just consider it."

I turn completely around until I am facing him. "I won't. If I run away with you, I lose Peeta and Haymitch, and I can't bear that."

He grimaces when I say Peeta's name, like it leaves a bad taste in his mouth.

"I'm sor—"

Before I can even get out the last of the words, Gale surges forward and kisses me. He grabs my face roughly, kissing me passionately. It takes me a few seconds to realize what he's doing, and once I realize that Gale has kissed me a second time without permission, he has already pulled back. I stare at him with wide, confused eyes.

Gale looks at me pleadingly. "I needed to do it."

I scoff in disbelief. My voice is laced with acid. "You didn't need to do anything, Gale."

I run away from the lake, and don't stop until I reach Victor's Village.

* * *

When I finally reach my house, I am out of breath. I open the door quickly, so I can finally get warm. My mind is swimming. I didn't ask for Gale's kiss, but he gave it to me regardless. I blush in anger and confusion at the thought of his lips on mine.

I call out to the seemingly empty house: "Mother? Prim?"

The only reply I get is silence. When I reach the kitchen, Haymitch is asleep on the table with a bottle of booze in his hand. I walk to his side and shake him.

"Haymitch, wake up!"

He stirs slightly.

"Don't make me poor water on you again."

At this, he pops up quickly.

"Not a chance, sweetheart."

He takes a moment to take in his surroundings before he speaks again: "We need to talk."

"I assume that this is about the Quell?"

"You guessed right. Come with me."

I follow him through my house until we reach the study. He opens the door, and there, in the chair, sits a beautiful young man with bronze hair, stunning sea-green eyes, and a brilliant, toothy smile. His arms are folded neatly on the table.

He opens his perfect mouth and speaks in a confident and charming voice, "I've been waiting for ages to meet you, Girl on Fire."

Haymitch glances at my surprised face and chuckles, "Katniss, meet Finnick Odair, victor from District 4."

* * *

 **Hey y'all! Thanks for reading this chapter! If you have any comments or suggestions, please leave a review.**

 **I want to give a HUGE thanks to my amazing Beta reader, Defying Expectations.**


	3. Chapter 3: The Agreement

**Update: 1/21**

* * *

"Careful, Kitty Kat, or you might catch some flies." Finnick says casually as he stands up. I close my mouth abruptly, and give him a cold, considering stare.

He is tall, much taller than me. As he walks around the desk towards me, his muscles ripple bulge under hisa long-sleeve, green shirt that matches his eyes. He's obviously stayed in shape from his Games, but what else could you expect from the Capitol's Golden Boy?.

I grimace, and the disdain in my voice is tangible: "Don't call me 'Kitty Kat.'"

"Are you sure, Girl on Fire?" He walks behind me. and disappearings from my view, and seductively whispers in my ear,.

Suddenly, I hear his seducing whispers in my ear, "I quite like that nickname."

I jump from his closeness, and walk behind the desk, putting distance between us. I'm sure my cheeks are as red as tomatoes.

Haymitch and Finnick laugh, but my grimace turns into a scowl., "I don't know why you're here, and, frankly, I don't care. Get out of my house."

Finnick's deep laugh is silenced by my words, and he looks to Haymitch. Haymitch just rolls his eyes, probably thinking that I'm acting like a child, but I don't care.

"C'mon, sweetheart. Sit down, grab a drink, and relax. We have business to discuss."

I shake my head as I continue to stare Finnick down with a steely look. He stares right back at me, unflinchingly, only his look is filled with amusement and a touch of concern.

"Why should I listen to what _he_ has to say?" I ask.

"Because it's about the Quarter Quell. While you and Peeta have been sulking in your own misery, I took it upon myself to make a plan of action."

"Your 'plan' being that we consult the Capitol's property?"

At this, Finnick's eyes narrow and his beautiful face hardens; I can practically feel the chill emanating from his body.

When he speaks, his voice is filled with malice: "I am no one's property, honey. Not even the Capitol's."

An uncomfortable silence blankets the room. The room is blanketed in an uncomfortable silence. Haymitch pulls a chair out from under the desk and sits down, raising the bottle to his mouth. No one speaks.

After what seems like an eternity of me staring at everything in the room but Finnick Odair, Haymitch speaks, "It's pretty chilly in here. You two have a lot of warming up to do before we get to the Capitol."

Finally, I look up at Finnick. His hard hard eyes have softened somewhat during the silence, and underneath, I can see that he's hurt by my comment. I'm not sure why, but I want to apologize. But before I can even open my mouth to say the words, Finnick finally speaks: "Let's just get this over with."

I nod gratefully, glad that Finnick has saved me from an embarrassing apology.

I sit down in the huge, leather desk chair, and glance at both of their faces. The mood of the room changes, and the tension and anger that were present during Finnick and I's fight diminishes. Now, it's charged with dread and determination—two things that should cancel each other, but describe the Games perfectly.

I open my mouth to speak, but Haymitch beats me to it, "I almost forgot. Before we get started, I need to go get Peeta. He needs to hear this too."

Haymitch walks to the door.,

"I'll be back soon. In the meantime, you two get acquainted with each other."

Finnick and I stare at each other, and I feel the apology from earlier on the tip of my tongue, ready to spill out, and save me from this awkward silence. I open my mouth and close it several times, unsure of how to approach this.

Finally, Finnick laughs and breaks the silence: "I've been watching you think of something to say for two minutes, Girl on Fire, and still nothing. How the hell did you get sponsors in the Games?"

We've jumped from one embarrassing situation to another.

The answer is out of my mouth before I even think twice about it: "Peeta."

Finnick smiles knowingly., "Ah, of course. Your star-crossed lover. He and you have made quite a stir in the Districts, you know?"

Finnick grins like a maniac and laughs accordingly. I shift uncomfortably in my seat.

He looks at me and rolls his eyes., "Come on, Katniss. Lighten up."

I glare at Finnick, dumbfounded. "How can you relax when we have to pick our own Tributes to sacrifice to the Capitol?"

He stares at me, his eyes bright with an inner flame that I can't quite place. He leans in, closer to the desk, trying to get as close to me without climbing over the desk.

When he speaks, his deep voice envelopes me: "I'm pretending, Kitty Kat. That's what all Victors do. We smile and wave for the cameras, love the Capitol citizens, and express our gratitude for the never-ending generosity of the Capitol. We make ourselves into something that we would never be able to recognize because that's what it takes to survive. Victors are never winners, only survivors."

My words come out as a whisper: "That's what it takes to survive?"

Finnick finally leans back into his chair, breaking eye contact with me.

"That's what it takes to survive."

When Peeta and Haymitch finally reach my house, Peeta strides into the study confidently, finding me with his eyes. They then travel to Finnick, as he extends his hand in greeting. They shake hands and exchange charismatic introductions and small talk quickly. Peeta is already on better terms with Finnick, and he just met him.

After he's done speaking to Finnick, he comes to stand behind me, placing a hand on my shoulder and squeezing affectionately. Involuntarily, I look up at Peeta and give him a small smile. When I turn my gaze to Haymitch and Finnick on the opposite side of the desk, I notice a trace of confusion on Finnick's face.

Peeta speaks, and I focus my attention on him, "So, what is exactly is going on?"

Haymitch speaks, "The Quarter Quell this year is going to be vicious," says Haymitch. "Not only will Victors be picking their own special and talented tributes, especially the Career districts, there will be 59 tributes– even more than my Games." I'm shocked to hear Haymitch mention his own Quell.

"We need alliances now more than ever. Normally, I would just save this shit until for when we arrive in the Capitol, but this year is different. I've been thinking about who could possibly get Katniss to ally with them, when Finnick called me, saying he was already on his way to 12. A stroke of goddamn luck, in my mind."

I looked at Finnick, thinking that if I couldn't can't even trust him, how could can I trust the tribute that he chooses?

I glance at Haymitch, "Shouldn't the tribute pick his or her allies?" I say to Haymitch.

"Under normal circumstances, yes, but this is an outrageous Quarter Quell. Each district will basically be a Career pack. All the victors will be picking the most vicious and capable fighters they have to make sure their District wins. Four has a good number of tributes, enough to help our own through the initial bloodbaths."

I scoff, "These kids don't have any say on whether or not they become tributes. Now, we have to take away their choice of allies as well?"

Haymitch laughs, " Not every District 12 tribute will be as resourceful and independent as you, sweetheart."

I look up at Peeta, and, for the first time since the announcement, see hope.

I look back at Finnick and Haymitch.

"Why should I trust him?" I point to Finnick.

Finnick speaks before Haymitch has a chance. "I've been training tributes for ten years, Katniss. I know how to mentor. I don't want to pick a tribute any more than you do, but I have to. And because I have to, I will pick the most capable and intelligent fighter I can. I'm going to give my District its best chance of winning, and, if we're allies, I'll make sure your tribute has the same chance."

I stare at Finnick, unsure if I should trust what he's saying. How can he promise this when we both know that only one tribute can come out of the arena alive?

"Peeta and I need a moment." I say to Haymitch and Finnick.

They both nod and get up to leavewalk to the door, only Finnick turns around to look at me before closing the door: "You may not like me, Katniss, but I am, seemingly, one of the few hopes for your tributes."

Finnick walks out, closing the door behind him, giving Peeta and I privacy.

"What do you think, Peeta?"

"Katniss, I know you don't really like the idea of teaming up with him, but this could really help our tributes out. You know better than anyone that District 12 isn't filled with the most skilled fighters. If they aren't extremely likeable or know their way around a weapon, there's no chance for them to get sponsors or even win for that matter. We both know that sponsors make the difference between life and death. At least with the District 4 tributes, they'll have a starting chance."

"You may be right, but we have to look past the initial fight. When it gets down to the final tributes, people turn on each other. Finnick will pick an incredibly skilled fighter because he wants to win. If it comes down between his tribute and one of ours, his tribute will kill ours. That's how it always is."

Peeta nods in agreement, "I know, Katniss, but alliances help. The Careers helped me survive while I was with them. Plus, our tributes can choose to break the alliance whenever they want to."

I consider this for a moment., "I just don't know if I trust Finnick."

"I don't know either, but we can always change our minds, Katniss. We can agree now, and then, after getting to know Finnick, if we don't think that he and his tributes would help us at all, we have the option to back off. Nothing is set in stone; we have a few months until the Games start."

I nod again, Peeta is making valid points, and I'm failing to see any untruths in what he's saying. I'm just scared that if we agree to this alliance, it will kill my tribute.

"Plus, after talking to Haymitch on the way to your house, getting in with Finnick would help us out with the other Victors. All of the other Victors have been friends for years, and we've only met one. If we kept to ourselves, by the time the Games finally start, the first thing they'd tell their tributes would be to kill oursus."

I look at Peeta, realizing what he's saying.

"We need to gain their loyalty."

"Exactly."

Who thought Peeta would be such a strategist?

I call out to Haymitch and Finnick, who are probably waiting in the hall outside the door, trying to catch snippets of Peeta and I's our conversation.

"Haymitch! Finnick! Get in here."

They quickly open the door, both of them staring at us with expectant eyes. I look at Finnick intently, not quite sure what he could have to gain from becoming allies with District 12. The people who live in 12 are starved and weak. Very few of us would be able to wield a weapon. He has to know that I was a rarity among my District. He has to know that our people cannot be skilled fighters.

"Finnick," I say, trying to sound confident in my answer, "We agree to the alliance, if…"

I pause for a few seconds thinking about what else I could gain from this.

"If you supply us information on all of your District's chosen tributes and why each victor chose them."

Finnick stares at me for a second, and then grins his toothy smile., "Sure, Kitty Kat. Why not?"

I let out the breath I didn't think I'd been holding. I am, somehow, relieved at this alliance. It gives me hope that the tributes that Peeta, Haymitch, and I have to sacrifice don't have to necessarily die. They may have a chance.

Haymitch leaves the room, claiming that he has things to do, when, in reality, he is probably just wanting to go get drunk. Peeta excuses himself, saying that he has to check on the bread that hasd been baking, leaving Finnick and I alone, once again.

"Nice acting, Kitty Kat. It's nice good to know that you can play the game."

"What game, Finnick?"

He gives me one last dazzling smile, "The game of survival, of course."

He says a flirtatious "See you soon," before he leaves, presumably to catch a train to District 4. I look around the room, and finally my eyes rest on the single white rose that is left over from President Snow's last visit. It glistens in the darkness of the room, and the scent still floods my nostrils every time I'm in here. I shudder at the memory of Snow in this room, in this very chair. I stand up abruptly.

Finnick is right. Pretending is the only way to survive the Capitol's games. The way the Capitol is planning this Quell, survival has certainly turned into a game.

* * *

Thank you for reading! Please leave a review :)

Also, I want to thank my incredible Beta reader, Defying Expectations. I'm so glad that I have someone who cares about this story as much as I do.


	4. Chapter 4: The Letter

**Haymitch**

It's a shitty day. The sky is gray and the wind whips around me, pulling my gray shirt in different directions. I'm standing under the shade of a tree outside of Katniss' house, drenched in the shadows. I stare at the door, waiting for Finnick to walk out. I don't know what's taking him so long.

Finally, the white door of the house opens, and Finnick steps out. He pulls his jacket closer to him, trying to keep the cold out. He looks grim.

I call out, "Finnick!"

His eyes narrow, searching every place an attacker could possibly reside. His body visibly tenses, and he crouches slightly, ready for an attack. Even after ten years, he still acts like he's in the Games.

When I step out from underneath the tree and into the dim light of the afternoon, Finnick sees me. His body relaxes and his eyes soften from the wild and dangerous District 4 Victor to the laid back Finnick Odair that I have come to know.

Finnick sighs and smiles. "If you wanted some extra time with me, Haymitch, all you had to do was ask."

I chuckle. "You know, I don't think I've ever met someone so full of themselves."

"I'll take that as a compliment, Haymitch."

I walk with him in silence to the entrance of Victor's Village. He needs to go back to Four soon. If he stays any longer, there could be serious repercussions. He acquired this favor from one of his Capitol clients. However, if he stays any longer, the Capitol will notice that he's gone. When we reach the iron gate that curls and swoops in the typical, elegant Capitol style, I stop.

Finnick turns his head and looks at me. His green eyes have darkened.

"If I'm being completely honest here, I'm very surprised Katniss agreed," Finnick says quietly.

I reply with a breathy laughlaugh under my breath, "I knew Peeta would agree. He's very keen on alliances. He knew that having Four's tributes as allies would give our tributes their best chance. And I knew that Katniss would listen to Peeta."

Finnick looks impressed. "Clever."

He pauses a moment before adding, "But I'm sure her trust in Peeta only goes so far."

I open my mouth to argue with him, but he stops me. "When the time comes for her to know what's going on, do you honestly think that she's going to accept so readily? Even if you do have Peeta on your side, she will be hesitant. Katniss will think of her family, and what this will do to her. Nothing else."

I scoff at his accusation. "I think you underestimate Katniss, Finnick. What you said is true. She loves her sister and mother more than anything, but have you thought of the possibility that she hates the Capitol more than she loves her family?"

He scoffs, "So we're putting our faith for the success of this rebellion on a sixteen16-year-old girl's _hatred_? That's not much to hope for."

"Hatred is a powerful thing, Odair. I thought you would understand that."

He turns his face away from me, but I can see the fire igniting his eyes. His voice has turned cold and steely.

"I joined this rebellion out of hope for a better future. Not hate."

I roll my eyes. "Of course. I'm sure that your hatred of the Capitol and what they've done to you, your family, and Annie has nothing to do with it."

Finnick doesn't respond. His anger is almost tangible.

Silence falls. We stare out at the District. The sun is sinking in the sky, submerging this bleak world into darkness.

His lack of faith in Katniss is ridiculous. She may be a sixteen-year-old girl, but she is powerful. Her actions in her theand Peeta's Games have ignited rebellions and incited anger across Panem. Finnick may not think that her anger will be powerful enough to agreefor her to join the rebellion, but what he doesn't understand is that anger fuels war. Hope does not begin rebellion. Desire does not continue it. Hatred is the spark that will light the fire of rebellion. If you hate something enough, you will do anything to destroy it.

"I need to get back soon, Haymitch."

"I'll walk you to the train station."

* * *

 **Katniss**

When I wake up the next day, I am in my room. I have finally had a restful night's sleep without Peeta sleeping beside me. For the first time, I have hope, no matter how small it may be. Finnick's proposition for Peeta and I may have been small, but it still means that I wield power. I have the ability to save one of my tributes. I have the resources. I will not let them die without a fight.

I get up and get dressed for the day, wondering how Haymitch, Peeta, and I will begin the search for our tributes. I'm sure the Capitol already has it mapped out. They will make sure it is as torturous as possible.

When I walk downstairs, I see my mother and Prim rushing around the kitchen, presumably preparing for a full day of work. Since I've gotten back, Prim has discovered her talent with medicine. On the days she doesn't have school, like today, she helps my mother heal people. Her eyes dance with childish glee, excited about doing the thing that she loves. No matter how mature she acts, Prim is still my little duck. The corners of my mouth turn up in a smile.

My mother looks up at me, noticing that I have come downstairs.

"Dear, there's a letter for you."

A letter? Who could have possibly sent me a letter?

I sit at the kitchen table, where a large white envelope waits for me. It is thick, full with information presumably about the Quarter Quell. My name is on the front. I turn it over and see a glimmering, golden Capitol seal keeping it closed.

My throat tightens, and my hands shake. I'm not prepared for what lies inside.

I pick up the letter tenderly as if it were a bomb. The envelope is smooth and smells faintly of roses. I stand up and walk briskly to the door, eager to get to Peeta's house.

When I get to Peeta's homearrive, I knock twice before I turn the doorknob and walk in. The smell of bread greets me like an old friend. I walk to the kitchen and see Peeta sitting at his table, an envelope nearly identical to mine in his hand. He has not opened it.

He looks up and gives me a small smile.

When I speak, the words are whispers, barely able to be heard. "You got one too?"

Peeta nods his head slowly.

He speaks quietly, "What do you think it is?"

Some kind of new torture, I'm sure.

I sit down at the table in the chair directly across from him. I finger the seal and tear it open. The seal breaks, but I cannot bring myself to pull the letter out.

I look to Peeta for confirmation. For help. For strength. I can't do this without him.

Simultaneously, we pull out both of our letters. A Capitol seal graces the first page of the letter. It is big, dark, and domineering. I place that page on the table, and look to the next.

On the top of the next page is a letter, addressed to me in dark, curling script. It almost seems like a work of art.

I begin reading the letter aloud for Peeta and I.

"Dear Miss Everdeen, congratulations on your recent victory in the glorious Hunger Games. It is an honor that the Capitol has proudly bestowed on you."

I pause, letting the words sink in.

I can't fathom how winning the hunger Hunger Ggames could possibly be called a victory.

I continue, "As you know, this year, in celebration of the third Quarter Quell, each surviving victor will have to choose a tribute. In order to accomplish this feat quickly and successfully, we have disclosed information on the process of choosing your new tributes. Peacemakers have been instructed to corral any potential tributes aged twelve through twenty-one…"

I stop. That's not right. It can't be. You are taken out of the Reaping after you turn eighteen. What could they gain from increasing the age? Not only are they punishing the victors, they're punishing every family with a child in Panem. They want every single person in the Districts to suffer.

My voice is horse, incredulous at this revelation.

"Peeta, they're increasing the age."

His eyes are wide, and he whispers his response angrily, "The older the tributes, the more bloody it will be. The Capitol will do everything for the biggest show possible."

I have to keep reading, to find out what other horrors the Capitol has placed on us.

I turn my eyes back to the letter. My voice is now shaking.

"In one week's time, every person between the ages of twelve and twenty-one will be forced to audition for you and your fellow victors. This is not negotiable."

I know that it's not just required for the possible tributes, it is non-negotiable for us as well. We aren't even in the Capitol yet, and they are already torturing us. The Capitol is making them perform for us in a practice training session to get in the games. It makes me sick.

"Each victor will choose one child among the masses as their tribute, no more, no less. Also, in the Capitol's kindness, President Snow has decided to extend a reward to the winning District of the third Quarter Quell."

I pause in confusion. What kind of reward could Snow possibly offer?.

"The district of the winning tribute will be exempt from future Hunger Games to show that the bond between the Capitol and the Districts will always be strong, and to remind the Districts that they are always at the Capitol's mercy. Let the games begin."

At the bottom of the letter is the unmistakable signature of President Snow.

I look up at Peeta. His eyes are clouded with anger and surprise, and his hands are visibly shaking.

We don't know how to react to this. Our tributes have the chance to make sure that 12 will never have to suffer through the games again. After a long silence, he finally speaks. His voice is somehow composed, but I feel the deadly cold in his voice.

"Not only do we have to pick the tributes, but they have to audition. Like they have some kind of choice in the matter."

I let him speak, allowing him to say everything that is on my mind. Our thoughts are synced.

"The Capitol has taken so much from us, but they are never satisfied. We give and give and give and give, and all we get is more suffering. I don't want to do this, Katniss. I want to move on with our lives and be with you. I don't want the Capitol's hand contaminating everything I love. How do we satisfy them?"

I blush at his words. Now is not the time for us to talk about this.

Ignoring him, I continue to talk about the letter: "Didn't you hear the last part, Peeta? We have a chance to make sure that District 12 never has to participate in the Games again."

His hand is on the table, and, in a moment of reckless emotion, I reached out to him. I want to comfort him.

"Katniss, they want us to pick the best tributes that our District can offer to make this the bloodiest Games in history."

Peeta's words make my eyes widen in surprise. The Capitol doesn't care about out immunity. Of course they don't. All they care about is the violence, but the temptation is too great to ignore. What they are offering would save hundreds of our people.

Peeta sighs. He knows what this means for our home.

He links his fingers with mine, making an unbreakable connection.

"Katniss, I'm just tired of being a piece in their games."

"I know."

His voice is monotone when he speaks:, "Let the seventy-fifth Hunger Games begin."

It's like Finnick said: we make ourselves into something else just to survive. We have to sentence our people to die. We have to be okay with sacrificing a few lives for the benefit of many. Victors are never winners, only survivors.

* * *

 **Hey y'all! Thanks for reading this chapter. If you have any comments or suggestions, please leave a review. I want to give a HUGE thanks to my amazing Beta reader, Defying Expectations. She's amazing, and I'm so lucky to have someone who cares about the future about this story. I can't wait for y'all to read what I have planned for the next chapters. I'm very excited about it ;)**


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